Little pictures inside my head of a blood red bed.
White-ants go on a chainsaw massacre.
Teddy swings from a rope as the fan-blades spin.
A sovereign's head splits Wilbur's back.
A tail-less mouse runs around a metal track.
Cockroaches high on energy drink suicide off the kitchen sink.
Chipmunks sing backed by mandolins.
Wrecking ball smashing through the wall.
Shaking like a leaf sitting there in disbelieve.
Am I delirious or is this just a dream inside a grand Matrix machine?
Have I lost my senses or have I just lowered my defenses?
Street maps in my eyes how do I disguise?
Does mental suicide exist or do we just assist?
Throw the lever on that chair because there is only a vacant stare, as no one longer cares.